The Path Less Traveled

Bandit Pumblers

The sound of hooves galloping and kicking up dirt filled the silence of the stagecoach as horses ran forth, pulling along the carriage through the gravel path that was carved through the thick forest, the moon and lanterns lighting the path as they surged forwards.

A dark green eye stared out the window, watching as the bleak surroundings were reduced to blurs due to the speed they passed by. Idly, he begins to fiddle with the string of pearls at his waist, feeling over each pearl's smooth surface as a way to distract himself from the recklessness of their driver. Recklessness, especially with something like a stagecoach, was how people got killed, although out of some respect, he didn't bother mentioning it. He wasn't the one to complain about a free ride.

Although the woman across him was.

"Who is the maniac driving the coach?" She barks at the person next to her. "He is ought to get us all killed at this rate with his wretched recklessness!"

The person, who he noted was their boss, turns to her, brow furrowed and sunken eyes glinting with confusion. "I haven't got a clue." They say with a shrug. "I'd presume the caretaker of the estate, but with driving like this... I wouldn't know how the estate survived long enough for me to inherit it.

"You need to hire better people." She concluded with a scoff. "He isn't even worth one pie-"

She was cut off by a loud bang and the sound of glass shattering as the window he was looking out exploded inwards, scattering glass into the stagecoach. He was lucky for his quick reflexes, as without them, he was sure he would've been badly cut by the glittering pieces. From where he had ducked out of the way, he heard the heir yell out something he couldn't quite decipher over the roar of blood in his ears and the sound of more gunfire. Horses neighed as they galloped forth in a panic, throwing caution to the wind, which caused the stagecoach to flip onto its side. The woman fell into him as gravity dragged them down. There was a sharp gasp of pain next to him, but with all the chaos he barely noticed. They skidded for a mile or so more until they stopped, and the horses' whinnies faded off into the distance.

He clutched the woman close to him with one hand and grabbed for the heir in the other. He felt his hand tighten around the dark fabric of their robes, and gently yanked them. They let out a small whimper, causing him to hiss out in a nearly silent voice, "It's an ambush, everyone stay down and stay quiet. If they come close, we attack."

The woman on top of him looked like she wanted to scream at him over something, but held her tongue, likely due to fear of getting them all spotted. He appreciated it, no matter how small it was, as she seemed like the headstrong stubborn type, so her listening to people seemed like a rarity. Thankfully, he could tolerate that type of thinking, for he was much like that himself.

Through the eerie quiet that filled the air, he heard the sound of footsteps crunching against gravel. His eyes frantically looked over the space they had, looking for his lantern, only to not find it, causing him to softly swear under his breath. Without his lantern, all he had on him that was usable in combat was his knife and some stun powder, which was barely anything, so he simply hoped the other mercenary would have something more to make up for his lack of lantern to burn his herbs.

He heard the footsteps get closer, with voices now beginning to fill the air. They seemed to speak a different language that he couldn't decipher. He presumed the woman knew, as she stiffened up. He felt her shift, sitting up as she looked up through the unshattered pane above them. After a few more tense moments, he heard the footsteps fade.

"We're clear." The woman says, now fiddling with the window. "Blasted thing won't open."

Now he gets up as well, staring at it while thinking. He moves his hands and takes off his cloak, feeling the material in his hands. It'd hold up well enough against the shattered glass, and he'd be able to stitch up any tears if there were any in the end. "Do you have anything blunt on you?" He asks the woman, who was still trying to open the window.